


Not If It's You

by Thebonemoose



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Jonathan Sims, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intricate Rituals, M/M, Mild Injury, Pining, Tenderness, Yearning, inspired by Orestes by Anne Carson, not to me not if it's you, pining jon, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebonemoose/pseuds/Thebonemoose
Summary: Jon gets hurt, and Martin patches him up.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 24
Kudos: 263





	Not If It's You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm baaaaaaack. I mean, I never left, but uhhhh. Anyways. 
> 
> I'm cultivating a bad habit wherein I write soft Jonmartin fics at 2am instead of sleeping, so I hope you all appreciate my poor decision making. 
> 
> Also it's not *really* about the whole "not to me thing", but who are we kidding. You're gay. You saw the tags. You'll probably read it. you will, fingers crossed, maybe even _enjoy_ it. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

When Jon came into work that day with his hand poorly wrapped in a slightly bloody dish towel, Martin had taken one look at him and marched him straight to the break room, intent on performing first aid.

Jon had tried to protest, at first, but Martin leveled him with a stare, and said “For goodness’ sake, just let me take care of you, Jon,” in a tone that both left no room for argument and made something in Jon ache. 

And oh, how Jon wanted that. He wanted to look to Martin, and ask him, really, _truly_ ask him, if Martin would take care of him. If he would, himself, be taken care of. If they could take care of each other. 

But he didn’t. He just obliged, and Martin sat him down on one of the plastic break room chairs and fetched the first aid from the cupboard.

“Was this injury...supernatural in nature?” Martin asked as he opened the kit, his brows furrowed as he took in the contents. 

Jon shook his head automatically. “Oh, no,” he said, once he realized Martin couldn’t see him. “Just me making an ass of myself.”

Martin snorted, and Jon’s chest clenched. He swallowed. 

Then Martin decided to ask him about such heart-stoppingly romantic topics like what exactly had cut open his hand (an iron fence) and oh my god, Jon, please tell me you’ve gotten a tetanus booster recently (he hadn’t.)

After Martin’s near heart-attack, he settled down to do his work, tending to Jon with gentle, careful hands.

And so Jon watched him, nearly dizzy with how badly he craved. 

Martin quickly removed Jon’s makeshift bandage and cleaned the wound: warning Jon that it would sting, and apologizing when Jon winced. 

“It’s alright,” Jon said softly, and Martin nodded to himself, and continued. 

Martin’s fingers on the torn, angry flesh of Jon’s hand should not have made Jon feel so safe, but they did.

No, actually. _Martin_ did.

Martin made him feel safe. Feel cared for. Feel… loved.

Even if Martin didn’t actually love him. 

Even if Martin didn’t even think of him like that, would never think of him like that. Jon cherished every smile, every secret moment they shared. 

He knew he hadn’t always been good to Martin, not by a long shot. 

But he was an ass, back then, and the Jon of now, of this very moment, would knock some sense into past-Jon in a heartbeat if he could. 

Jon had _grown_ , was the point. He’d stopped pushing people away out of fear that they would hurt him or leave him or betray him. He started letting people in, slowly. Letting himself relax around them. 

He started letting himself be cared for.

And he would make it up to Martin for the rest of his life, if only he were allowed to. 

Jon’s mind drifted back to Martin, holding Jon’s hand in his own. It may as well have been Jon’s heart grasped in Martin’s strong, gentle hands. 

Martin finished cleaning the wound and began bandaging it efficiently with gauze. His eyes were fixed on his work, but Jon could not stop looking at Martin.

It’s no wonder, then, that he noticed.

“You’re staring,” Martin said, not looking up from Jon’s hand.

“Sorry,” Jon replied a bit breathlessly. He did not look away. Martin met his eyes.

They stayed like that, their eyes locked, for another moment.

“You’re not looking away,” Martin stated quietly. 

Jon shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Neither are you,” he whispered. 

There was a conundrum Jon thought about sometimes. The unstoppable force and the immovable object. Namely, what happens if the two collide?

The answer, of course, is that they destroy each other. The strength of their abilities tears them apart. The conundrum becomes more complex when you amend it, and specify that both the force and the object are indestructible. 

What happens, then? 

Jon didn’t know. But he desperately wanted to find out.

Martin’s eyes flicked down to Jon’s lips, and back up. Jon swallowed thickly. His pulse raced loudly in his ears. 

Jon looked down to Martin’s lips, too. 

He wasn’t sure who moved first. He wasn’t sure who was the object, who was the force. All he knew was that they were finally— finally— colliding.

And it was _wonderful._

Martin made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled Jon closer, his hands on the back of Jon’s neck. Jon, meanwhile, had one hand on Martin’s elbow, and the other caressing his face.

Then Martin dug his fingers into Jon’s hair, and Jon couldn’t help the pleased sound he made. 

Unfortunately, Martin pulled away then, and Jon tried not to whine at his absence.

“I want this to mean something, Jon,” he said intently, his hands still buried in the hair at Jon’s neck. “I can’t— this can’t just be a— a nothing kiss that happened once, and then we ignore it for the rest of our lives. Either this _means something,_ or… or I’ll need some space. To figure out how to… not be in love with you.” 

Jon’s head finally caught up to the rest of him. Martin had feelings for him. Martin wanted to build something with him. 

Martin was in love with him. 

And, judging by Martin’s red face and wide eyes, he had not meant to give away that last bit. He opened his mouth, and stammered out a “I— I mean, I wasn’t, um—“

Luckily, Jon interrupted him before he could hurt himself, or dig himself an even deeper hole. “Martin,” he said. Martin’s eyes snapped to his, big and terrified. “I’m in love with you, too. I want this to mean something. I want to be with you.” 

Martin didn’t say anything. He just moved forward in one quick motion, and then his lips were on Jon’s again, and he could really, really get used to this. 

The kiss deepened, and as much as Jon enjoyed the nearness, something in the back of his mind began to scratch and irritate. He tried to push it away, to keep it out of sight. But eventually, it could be ignored no longer.

“Martin,” he said, breaking the kiss. 

Martin looked at him, his expression open. 

“I— there’s something you should know,” Jon began. He swallowed. “I’m… I’m asexual. My boundaries are probably… different than most people’s,” he said, and braced for the worst. 

Martin responded almost instantly. “That doesn’t matter.” 

Jon didn’t even have the time to feel gutted, because then Martin scrunched his face up, and started again. “I mean— it does matter, of course it matters because it’s a part of you, and that’s important, but— ugh, what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t change anything for me. I just want you, Jon, in whatever form that comes in.” 

Jon’s relief could’ve been a physical thing: a heavy load suddenly removed, allowing Jon to finally breathe easy. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and he definitely couldn’t help the severe urge to embrace Martin in that moment.

So he did, and Martin wrapped his arms around Jon and squeezed. 

When they pulled away, Martin was looking at him softly, _fondly,_ and Jon felt such a swell of affection and gratefulness for the man in front of him he almost didn’t know what to do with it.

He reached his hand up— the one Martin had so lovingly bandaged— and caressed Martin’s face, stroking it lightly with his fingers. Martin leaned into it, then took Jon’s hand and cupped it with his own, turning his head just enough to press a light kiss to the palm. 

Jon’s heart melted. 

Martin was looking at him with an indecipherable hint of _something_ in his eyes, and Jon could not look away. 

Martin wasn’t just an unstoppable force, he was _gravity itself,_ and as it turned out, Jon was not so immovable, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated greatly :-)
> 
> Also if you're hoping for the next installment of Magnus and Lukas (side note go read my series Magnus and Lukas, it's not lonely eyes its a coffee shop au) i am currently writing it, I hope to post before the end of April :-)


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